Chapter 20

I went to the kitchen to make coffee while Charlie cued the movie. When I got back, I was glad to see that low budget movies had not improved. Bobby was a pot smoking and selling kid, who got kicked out of college. When he got home, he found that he had a source for the pot, but no customers.

For the next 90 or so minutes I watched his mother, who was the owner of more silicone products than a tire store, and his sister try to help Charlie find his way in the world. I would comment on how bad the actors were, if I didn't feel really bad calling those people actors.

The woman who played the fifty year old mother had a bad cosmetic surgery addiction, in addiction to her supposed pot addiction. The pot could be faked, but not those pumped up boobs, and a faced stretched tighter than a bicycle inner tube.

When Bobby's mom caught him smoking pot, he agreed to give her some to try. After all, if she was going to lecture him on the evils of smoke, she should at least know what she was talking about. It was at that point that I saw Mom's boobs for the first time. They were truly something men might lust after, but no sane woman would.

"Well her boobs aren't too bad for an old lady I guess," Charlie said.

"Charlie honey, those are not boobs. Those are jelly filled balloons under her skin." I said.

"So, do all natural women your age have saggy boobs?" he asked.

"Some more than others but all women show the effects of gravity, even those with implants do eventually." I said.

"So why don't you sag?" he asked.

"I do sag Charlie. I wear strong bras to hide it. Sometimes push up bras help as well, but I don't sag as badly as some women. That's because my breasts are small." I explained.

"How small?" he asked.

"36B, it's not terribly small but far from the size desired most by men in surveys." I said,

"Are you wearing a bra now?" he asked

"Of course I am honey," I replied.

"What kind?" he asked

"A strong rear hook model. They are the most common. At least the most purchased and worn in this country, I think." I explained. I really was trying to school him.

"So show me," he demanded.

"Show you what?" I asked honestly feeling a little lost in the conversation suddenly.

"Show me the world's most common bra please. Just so I will recognizes it when I see it again," he said smiling broadly.

"You are totally insane," I said with my eyes on the old movie actress's pumped up boobs. She wasn't just a fake, she was a bad fake in every way it seemed...

"Come on mom, do you want me to think all you older women look like Bobby's mom?" he asked it all smarmy.

"Of course not," I suggested.

"Then just show me your industrial strength bra," he said. "What's the harm in that?"

"There is no harm," I answered. I leaned forward and lifted the knit top over my head. It left me sitting in jeans and a strong white rear clasp bra. I had more on than I had most of the nights I was on the road so I didn't see anything wrong in it. I would consider the exchange of a soft thin tee for the bra a fairly even swap, but the jeans for panties was a definite exposure of more skin in panties.

"Well you are right your boobs are smaller than most of the girls at school. Some of them might be enhancing them one way or another though," Charlie suggested.

"Some might, be but I really am small honey," I said.

"This conversation is a lot more interesting than the movie, but I do like having the movie running in the background," Charlie suggested.

"I can understand you feeling that way, porn and a real woman with her top off sounds like a college boy's dream date," I suggested.

"Well you did say you would be my date," he laughed again.

"Yes, but I didn't say I would be a good date," I admitted.

"You are promising date," he said laughing.

"Are you saying I'm a tease?" I asked faking indigence.

"That remains to be seen." When he looked at me he was smiling but not with any humor. I had just enough to drink, so that I missed the look of the predator in his eye. It wasn't the kind of look to send me running anyway. It was just the kind of look that would have told me to stop drinking and pay more attention to the vibe I was giving off. In short it was more my dad's look than his dad's.

"So, I see you have lost some weight on your road trip," he commented.

"Yes, I lost over twenty pounds and even a couple more since I got home," I suggested.

"Good, you needed it," he said without anything to soften his words.

"Well thanks for noticing anyway," I suggested in a somewhat disappointed tone.

"So do men stare at you more now?" he asked.

"Frankly no more than usual, which wasn't much," I replied.

"I would stare at you, if I met you out in a bar," he said.

"Charlie you are too young for clubs," I informed him.

"Sure," he replied. The sarcasm was dripping from his voice.

"At least tell me you don't hit on women my age," I demanded.

"Wouldn't you rather have the truth?" he asked with that grownup look he had been flashing at me.

"Ordinarily yes, but in this case, I not sure," I suggested.

"One of my friends told me that women your age were harder to pick up cold, but they were much easier to score," he informed me.

"You are going to have to explain that one," I said.

If I met a woman like you at say a wedding, I would expect it to be very hard or impossible to pick you up. But if I did, the chances of having sex with her would be twice those of a stranger my own age," he explained.